


Broken

by Slades_Snowflakes



Category: James Bond (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, M/M, Mental Instability, Q is related to ALL the wrong people, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slades_Snowflakes/pseuds/Slades_Snowflakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft may not be as smart or as quick as Sherlock, but he was a man of means; of patience and power.  He knew the dangers of someone like James Moriarty.  But while that man was a threat, he also knew that Moriarty had a short fuss.  With anyone that unstable, there was bound to be side effects.  Moriarty was going to burn himself to ashes.  So, while Sherlock and Moriarty played their 'games', Mycroft's master plan was surprisingly simple.</p><p>Step 1: Monitor the 'games'.</p><p>Step 2: Run damage control.</p><p>Step 3: Clean up the ash.</p><p>All Mycroft needed to do was wait it out.  Though, with someone as dangerous and crazy as Moriarty, Mycroft knew that things weren't going to be that easy.  Luckily, Mycroft was nothing if not adaptable.  </p><p>Step 4: Don't let the madman drive you mad.</p><p>*With mild cameos from my favorite MI6 members.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break-Ins and Bargains

Click.

Mycroft frowned as the sound dragged him from his sleep. That sounded very much like a military handgun. Most likely a Glock. Most likely his. For being a light sleeper, it was quite surprising that Mycroft found himself in this position. In his sleep-idled mind, he couldn’t process which was worse; that someone was straddling his hips or the fact that he could feel his gun muzzle pressed against the bottom of his jaw. Either way, both were a good indicator that his much needed sleep wasn’t what he was going to get any time soon. And after seventy two hours without sleep, that was the most disheartening thing of all. He considered taking the bullet just so he could finally get some rest.

But that would be in poor taste. Keeping his eyes closed, Mycroft tried not to react to the weight on his hips or the cold metal on his skin. He took a slow breath and counted down how many people could even possibly get into his home, let alone his room, not liking any of the names that came to mind. A small part of him was hoping this was just a warped dream. He really shouldn’t have gone this long without sleep.

“I know you aren’t asleep! It’s time to wake up~!” So much for a dream. It wasn’t the words, but the sing-song voice that forced Mycroft to open his eyes and glare at James Moriarty. The psychopath just grinned down at him, waiting for him to react. Truthfully, Mycroft wasn’t sure how to react. He was quite out of his element since this was his safe house room and the world’s most dangerous criminal happened to be in it. Sadly, while there is many things he should be thinking about; compromised security, crazy lunatic threatening his life. The only thing his tired mind could process was Moriarty’s bony butt digging into his hips, painfully so. Unfortunate. 

“It would be in your best interest to remove yourself. I detest bruises.”

Moriarty just giggled and pressed the gun harder into Mycroft’s jaw. “Now, now! How rude to treat a guest! I came all this way to see you, Mycey! I have much to discuss. I know you would like to hear what I have to say~!” He finished the sentence in a trill note. Mycroft took the physical jab without reacting, however the high pitch made his eyebrow twitch. He knew he was too tired for dealing with the mastermind this early in the morning. That put this ‘meeting’ at a pessimistically piss poor chance of survival. “Surprisingly, no. I don’t want to hear your riddles or your threats. If you are bored, go bother my brother. Either pull the trigger or bugger off.” 

Moriarty just grinned and bobbed his head side to side. “Oh, you seem to be in poor form today, Mycey. And here I just wanted to talk about the missing ambassador.” Bloody hell. Of course this crazy bastard was responsible for the missing Poland ambassador. Mycroft sighed, trying to stay calm, though it was a herculean task. 

Mycroft spoke through his clenched teeth, “I suppose it would be good manners to offer you a thank you for making my week the most challenging that I can remember. However, if this is just part of one of your games, it would be best that you see yourself out.” Moriarty frown down at him, though his eyes seemed to gleam, “What, you don’t want to play today?” Mycroft frowned, “These ‘games’ are more of Sherlock’s thing. I only clean up the mess, so no. I’d rather not.” Moriarty face turned into a shit-eating grin, “Me neither!” 

With a flourish, Moriarty rolled off Mycroft to land on the bed. Though his antics were wild and flashy, the gun didn’t move from under Mycroft’s jaw. “You see, Mycey boy, the couple times I’ve been in here, I was quite taken by it! I must say that your room is one of the quietest rooms I’ve been in. And so cozy too! So, I’m here to rent your room!” Mycroft blinked slowly, trying not to let his surprise show on his face. _He’s been here before. Bloody hell. And, wait, what?_ Mycroft slowly turned his head to look at Moriarty, mindful of the gun. “I beg your pardon?” The erratic giggles were the only answer while Moriarty used his free hand to reposition the pillow below his head. 

Eventually he got comfortable and turned back to Mycroft. “If I wanted begging, I’d make a trip to the ambassador’s holding cell. No, I don’t want you to beg, I want you to be quiet.” With that, he closed his eyes and sunk further into his pillow. Mycroft clenched his jaw. This man literally knew no limits. Kidnap an ambassador and then fall asleep in the middle of threatening someone. Moriarty’s free hand shot over and laid over Mycroft’s mouth gingerly. “Shhh, I can hear your teeth grind. Quiet now.” Attention drawn to the hand on his face, Mycroft noticed that the hand smelled suspiciously like his bathroom hand soap. This bloody bastard used his bathroom. _How long was he here? How did I not notice when I got in? Was I that knackered?_

In a daze, Mycroft didn’t know what to do. This was the most bizarre situation he has been in and he couldn’t find any answers, just more questions. What did this mad man really want? And why here? And what does this have to do with the missing ambassador? However, in all the meddled thoughts in his brain, all he seemed to mutter was, “Why?”

Moriarty’s eyes snapped open, a deadly gleam in his eyes. His voice came out quiet and eerie, “Why? It’s quite simple. Like a wayward disease of the mind, I seemed to pick up the misfortune of a migraine.” The next sentence seemed to raise in volume with each syllable until he was yelling, “So, if you would shut the hell up!!” Moriarty’s face was red, and his breaths labored. However, Mycroft’s main concern was focused on the gun’s slight shake under his chin. At the very edge of his vision, Mycroft could see the finger twitch at the trigger. That escalated quickly. Self-preservation kicked in, “Fine.”

In an instant, the rage was gone, a smile back in place. “You were always the more reasonable of the Holmes brothers. And for being such a good boy, I may be willing to part with the ambassador.” He closed his eyes again, relaxing back into the bed. While Mycroft should try and confront this man, or think of a way out of this one-sided standoff, all he could think was mild relief. The lack of the ambassador had put strain on quite a few of Britain’s allegiances, and the chance of getting him back was probably worth this awkward situation. Probably. Mycroft looked down at the gun, frowning. Well, he has slept in worse conditions. 

“And if you were willing to cuddle, I’d even consider giving him back alive.”

Oh, Bullocks.


	2. Insults and Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should have known this wasn't going to end well.

Mycroft tried not to stare. He really did. However, when one of the most dangerous men in the world, who happens to be laying in your bed uninvited, asks you to cuddle, you really can’t do anything but stare. “You have got to be joking.” Moriarty tilted his head to side in consideration. “Well, yes I was. But since you seem so put out by it, I think I just might make it a requirement.” Mycroft frowned, “That won’t be necessary.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Moriarty rolled to his side to look Mycroft in the eye, a cheeky grin on his face. “Yes. Now you have to.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “I don’t ‘have’ to do anything.” Moriarty didn’t seem fazed though, “Oh, and I want to be the big spoon.” 

Mycroft has spent his whole life knowing when to give and take in the world of politics and government secrets. He knew the costs of preventing fights, conflicts, and world wars. He was a man of bargains, and he knew how much he had to give to get the Poland ambassador back. And Moriarty just outbid it, by a long shot. “I’d rather you just pull the trigger, thank you very much.” Knowing that he was done with the conversation, consequences be damned, Mycroft rolled over with his back to Moriarty. 

“Oh, was big spoon too much? A pity. What if I threw in a little something extra? Hmm~?” Mycroft ignored the babbling mastermind and tried to go to sleep. “What if I kidnapped the Prime Minister’s daughter? Or maybe the entire Prime Minister’s family? Hmmm? What about then?” That. Now that was too much. Mycroft took in a deep breathe, trying to stay calm. His brain fired through all the possibilities, all the outcomes. That could not happen. There was no way that Moriarty would do that. An ambassador was one thing, but the Prime Minister. That was not something Moriarty would be willing to do. Moriarty loved playing in the shadows. A kidnap like that would pull too much limelight on Moriarty. 

Mycroft knew that he could call Moriarty on his bluff. However, what terrified Mycroft was that he knew that Moriarty could do it if he wanted to. He actually could pull that off. Mycroft wouldn’t be able to call this bluff in fear of pushing this unstable, crazy man too far. What if he took it as a dare to take the stakes higher? Mycroft couldn’t let that happen. Mycroft knew that he was willing to do almost anything, including cuddling with James Moriarty, to make sure that didn’t happen. 

In this short lived game of cat and mouse, Mycroft knew that he had lost. This is why Sherlock was much better suited to play against Moriarty; he didn’t have as much to lose. With his back still towards Moriarty, Mycroft let out a sigh, “Very well.” He could feel Moriarty wiggle across the bed until he was right behind him, however, Moriarty never touched him. Mycroft tried not to shiver as hot breath hit his ear, “I have no intentions of cuddling with you Mycroft. If I wanted to cuddle, I would have hired a prostitute.” 

Mycroft clenched his teeth as Moriarty laughed into his ear. “Though, when you think about it, you do hit the requirements. You see, Mycey boy. Everyone has a price. And I just found yours.” How dare he?! Mycroft whipped around to face Moriaty. However, before he could reply, Mycroft felt a sharp stab on his neck. But this time, it wasn’t the gun. As he looked down, he saw Moriarty push the needle plunger down. He cursed as he felt the drugs take effect. “And while this conversation was fun, I do still have a headache, and I would like to get some sleep tonight.”  
As Mycroft’s body became dead weight, Moriarty pulled up a leg and physically kicked Mycroft out of bed. As his body hit the floor, Mycroft gasped in pain. However, the drugs were quick, forcing his eyes to fluttered shut. The last thing he saw was Moriarty lean over the side of the bed and drop a pillow on him. “Nighty night, Mycroft~!” 

 

\---------------

When Mycroft woke up, he knew. He knew it was nine in the morning. He knew he was on his bedroom floor and his back hated him for it. He knew he was well rested, though groggy from oversleep and drugs. He knew that Moriarty was gone, along with his gun. He knew he needed coffee like he needed to upgrade his security and sweep for bugs. 

And he knew he had to hunt Moriarty down and put a bullet in his head. Mycroft was only willing to be compromised so much. The break-in was unfortunate but acceptable. The life threat was expected. The empty threat of kidnapping the Prime Minister was too much. It was still a threat, and would be handled as such. Of course, the prostitute comment was insult upon injury. Either way, this had to be dealt with. He picked up his phone and rung up Anthea.

“Dear, coffee. And please upgrade my security and sweep for bugs. Also, move James Moriarty to Grade 2 Status.” He could hear her type through the phone as she replied, “Yes sir. By the way, the ambassador was found this morning in his hotel room. Apparently, he was quite sloshed. They can’t get a word out of him, sir, but he seems well.”

Mycroft frowned. While he should be relieved, the news made him quite paranoid. So, Moriarty returned the ambassador? Did he even have him to begin with? And why return him now? Was that the plan all along? Then what about last night? What the bloody hell is he playing at? With all these questions, the only thing Mycroft knew was that Moriarty was up to something. 

“Let’s move Moriarty to top priority, shall we?”

“Very well, sir.”


	3. Priorities and Private Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your tea buddy becomes a MI6 priority, it's time to find new friends.

There was a million benefits to being the Quartermaster. One of Q’s favorites was being ahead of the gossip. When he got the job, the first thing he did was implement backdoors to everyone’s emails, including M’s. While some might think it was in poor taste or possibly treason, Q figured with so many lives in his hands, he should know all of the facts. Knowing is half the battle. 

For instance, how would he have known that the new 00 was colorblind? He should have known that the moment he past his first test, not when he’s cleared for active duty. There is a billion and one equipment modifications to do, it’d take months before Q would actually be able to send him out in the field. So, yes, he’s been electronically eavesdropping on his boss. She really should expect that from him. He is one of the most skilled techs to grace MI6. And speak of the devil. 

Q saw the top priority email blink on his screen. Keeping his focus on the current set of codes he was crunching, he clicked on the notification. However, as he read the title, he completely forgot about his codes. 

Top priority - James Moriarty. 

Without even reading the rest of the email, Q bolted out of his chair. “In a rush?” The words followed him as he left his office, however, he ignored it. By the time he got to the halls, Q realized that Bond had followed him. “Not in a rush. Something came up that requires my attention.” Bond just hummed in response as he continued to tail him. Q winced as he felt his phone buzz. He knew what it was; top priority memos get sent out quickly. Keeping his head straight, he tried to ignore Bond fishing his own phone out.

"Top priority report. Why are these pictures so grainy? He must be good if this is the best we got. Hmm, he kinda looks like that little, awkward fellow you have tea with on Tuesdays. What was his name? Jim?” Q walked past Moneypenny, going until he was in front of M’s office before he turned to Bond, “Yes. His name is Jim. Now, excuse me, I need to talk to M.” Before either could talk, M’s door swung open. “Oh good, I wanted to talk to both of you. Step in.” Q took a breath before he stepped inside. M motioned for both to take a seat. “As you two should already know, we have been giving top priority to one James Moriarty.” Q tried to interrupt, “Sir, about that-“ 

“Wait until I am finished, Q. Moriarty has a long list of crimes, however, his most recent act, kidnapping the Poland ambassador, has put him on our boss’s radar. So, I’ll need you to hunt him down. Capture is preferable.” Bond frowned, “Capture, really? If we already got the ambassador back, why not just eliminate him?” M frowned, “It saws capture. I don’t get to ask questions, and neither do you, 007.” M turned back to Q, “Now, what was it?”

Q sat up straighter, keeping his face calm. “I am an acquaintance of Moriarty.” M and Bond both turned their full attention to Q. “Excuse me?” Q frowned before continuing, “I came here to tell you that I know him. Nothing serious, stop looking like that James. I am willing to assist in capturing him, however, I have some requests.” Bond looked like he had been slapped. “Wait, so that is Jim? The guy that keeps spilling tea on our carpet every Tuesday? The guy that goes on and on about musical plays? He who can't finish a full eclaire if his life depended on it? That Jim? Oh, he is evil.” M waved at Bond to shut him up, her focus still on Q. “We will talk about fraternizing with enemy later. What kind of request?” Q took a big breath. “As you should well know, you don’t get government Grade 1 status without being dangerous, but Jim is eccentric and requires a certain kind of finesse. First,” Q looked directly at Bond, “No tackling.”

Bond winked, “Don’t worry, I won't. I'm better than that. Besides, I hate wrinkling my suits.” Q eyed him, “Neither does Jim. Second, no slapping, punching, or hitting him in the head. He’s already unstable. He, and we, don’t need him to get a concussion as well.” Bond grinned, “Fine.” Q looked at him longer, making sure he got the message, “And no guns.” Bond stared at him, “No guns? You've got to be joking. How do you plan to take him into custody? 'Hello Jim, care for a scone and some handcuffs.”

Q frowned, “Actually, yes. Jim is curious, impulsive, and likes to have the upper hand. He’d come just because he could.” M listened quietly to all Q's requests before asking, “You seem very adamant about the ‘no guns’. Why is that?” Q removed his glasses and started to clean them. “Jim’s good at being normal; calm, cool, collected. However, when there is a threat; guns, bombs, fist fights, things change. And when that happens, he does things that end with him being Grade 1 priority.”

“Adrenaline junkie?” Q shook his head as he put his glasses back on, “No. That's not how Jim works.” M continued to frown at Q. “How do you know him?” Q got up, “We eat at the same cake shop. No, I’m not a risk. No, I won’t feel bad when we take him in. And no, we can not use my apartment to capture him. He goes to Betite’s Cake Shop religiously. There is a side door that no one uses but Jim. Just stake it out until he shows up. Now, if you will excuse me, I still have coding to do.” Before he left, he turned back to Bond and points his finger at him. However, Bond grabs it, interrupting Q's speech, “I know. No tackling, no head hitting, and no guns. I'll be good... enough.”

Q frowned, "That's what I'm afraid of."

 

\-----------------

_C4ST0R – I thought you were only playing with matches? How’d you burn the whole forest?!_  
 _P0lluX – Sounds like I got an upGrade. Who knew a little pillow talk would cause this much commotion!_  
 _C4ST0R – Well it did. And now you are going to have guests._  
 _P0lluX – Oh, how many should I set the table for?_  
 _C4ST0R – 007. But please. Don’t bring out the knives._  
 _P0lluX –You know you shouldn’t have favorites, your other pets could get jealous._  
 _C4ST0R – Hypocrite_.  
 _P0lluX - U NO NO ME!!!_  
 _C4ST0r – I know you. No knifes._ __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have the smallest concern the last bit, while intended to be coded, might not make any sense at all. But then again, Jim doesn't make sense most of the time anyways. Confuse ALL the people!


	4. Cakes and Consensuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea time just got awkward.

Mycroft stepped out of Buckingham Palace and headed for the car. Just wonderful. Right after putting Moriarty on Grade 1, the royal family ends up on the brink of a blackmail scandal. When he first got the call, he wasn’t at all surprised that it was Irene Adler. That woman had a talent for stirring up unmentionables. As he neared the car, he nodded to Anthea. She walked around the car, clicking on her phone, “Sir, shall we be on to your next meeting?”

Mycroft stopped halfway into the car, “I don’t believe I had another meeting.” Anthea checked her phone, “Neither did I, sir. But it says here, ‘2 o clock. We need to talk about the Woman.’ Nothing else, besides an address, a bakery not far from here.” Mycroft sighed, “Why must everyone be so bloody dramatic. Carry on.”

As they drove, Anthea continued, “You received an email from MI6. M sends her regards. She also informs you that she has two men that have a basic acquaintance on Moriarty and plan to apprehend him today.” Mycroft knew that M was the one to get the job done, but so soon? He was torn between being impressed and being suspicious. “Did she say who?” Anthea scrolled down the email, “One James Bond, a 00 agent, and the Quartermaster himself.” 

Mycroft looked out the window as the car stopped, “Odd. They should probably consider getting better friends. Are you sure we are at the right place?” The place was boarded up and graffiti’ed over. As she checked the address, her phone buzzed. “Text sir, ‘the side entrance is open.’.” Mycroft opened the door with distain, “Of course.” 

Mycroft circled the building until he reached the unlocked door. Expecting a grungy little place, he was taken aback by what was inside. It was a full bakery café, with a display, shiny counter tops and quant little sets of tables and chairs. As he took it in, a little petite girl stepped from out of the backroom. “Good afternoon! Would you like to sit down, or would you be liking something to go?” 

“Mycey, you came!” Mycroft cringed before followed the voice over to the table in the back. Moriarty. Of course. The man was sitting with his back to the corner with a half-eaten cake in front of him. Pursing his lip in a grin, he walked over to him. “Oh, you don’t look surprised to see me. We have much to talk about Mycey. Please, sit down.” Mycroft pulled out his phone to show the meeting pop up, “Yes, about the Woman? She one of yours?” Moriarty sneered, “No. In fact, I am very upset with her.” Mycroft took off his gloves and put them on the table, “I’m rather shocked that we have something in common.” 

“What fun~! That’s why I figured we could have a little chat. See if maybe our disinterests align on maybe making our problems disappear together.” Mycroft gave a small smile, “I may be willing to hear what you have to say on the matter.” He sat down in the chair across from Moriarty. However, as his entire weight settled on the chair, an audible click and a dull whirl sounded from under his chair. Moriarty’s face transformed into mock surprise, “Oh no. There’s a bomb under your chair~.” As his face transformed into a grin, “Since you may be here awhile, would you like a slice?”

\---------------

“I am pretty sure I remember you saying that you weren’t going to assist in capturing Jim. Why are you here?” Q got out of the car, “No, I said you were not allowed to use the apartment to trap him. Besides, I do believe that I am more qualified for bring him in.” Bond grinned at him before leading the way to the Betite’s. “What a shotty place. Are you sure it’s still open?” Q took them to the side door, “It’s open.” Bond frowned, “And how do you know he’s here?” Q opened the door, “Trust me when I say if Jim is still alive, he’ll be here.” 

As Bond took in the bakery shop, he frowned, “Still alive?” Q ignored him as he spotted Jim in the back with someone else. He grabbed Bond’s arm and steered him towards the table. As they got near, Jim rose to meet them, arms out in an expected huge. “You’re here!” Ignoring the open arms, Q frowned, “Why is Mr. Holmes here? And why are you here? When I got your funeral invite in the mail, I was surprised you would still be alive.”

A sneer broke over Jim’s face, “Yes, well, when I gave my eighteen year old brother five hundred grand to spend on a prostitute, I was surprised that he spent it all.” The rest of the sentence broke into a shriek, “on one whore!” 

As the word whore echoed around the shop, everyone started to ask a question at once.

“Brother?”

“Prostitute?

Q’s eyes widened, “Why are you bringing up something that happened years ago?” Jim leaned in close, “Oh, silly me. Did I fail to mention that it’s are relevant to this meeting? Please, sit down.” Neither Q nor Bond moved. “Sit down!” The scream startled Q, making him motion to Bond to sit down as he took the opposite chair. As both sat down, the pressure sensors under their chairs clicked into place with a dull whirl. “Shit.” 

Jim just grinned, “Now that I have everyone’s attention, anyone want some cake?” He served up three plates but no one took an offered plate. “Oh, come now. Why would I poison you if I planned to blow you up?” Q stared at him before taking a plate, “Fine, but you need to start talking now. What are you on about? You do realize Mr.Holmes is the one that put you on alert?” Jim grinned at Mycroft as he handed him a plate, “I know. I intended that to happen.” Mycroft frowned but accepted a plate. Q snorted, “Why, so you could force him into tea time?” 

“That’s just an added bonus.” Bond grinned, “I’m sure there’s better ways to woo someone. He looks like a flowers and chocolates kind of man.” As Jim and Bond laughed, Mycroft leaned towards Bond, “You do realize that I could happily end your employment with a single call?” Jim wiggled a finger at Mycroft, “Now, don’t be mad because he called you out. You do fancy the chocolates Mycey.” 

Q forcefully set his plate down, “No. You cannot kidnap and threaten people, and then have normal conversations with them.” Jim sat back with a gleam in his eye, “Fine, what would you like to talk about? The old lady I blew up? The dozen snipers I have banking this place? Those seem more fun than small talk.” Q slightly paled but spoke, “No, I know how that ends. How about tell us about your ‘Ultimate Showdown’ a couple weeks ago. How’d that go?” Jim’s frown returned, “Well, what would you like to know? The part where Irene Adler interrupted it or the part where she was calling me to tell me she had blackmail pictures on MI6’s new Quartermaster?”

Q choked on a piece of cake, pulling all attention to him.

“Quartermaster, are you being blackmailed?”

“Q, what is he talking about? What does she have on you?” 

“What? Of course not. And it’s not that important.” 

Jim snorted, “It’s important enough that she thinks she’ll get money from me for it. Go ahead and tell them.” With everyone staring at him, Q huffed. “Very well. When I was eighteen, I was on the fence about being gay. I mean, I knew I was gay, but I figured I wouldn’t be a hundred percent sure until I tried both sexes. Jim suggested I get a prostitute, which seems like a good idea at the time.” Both Bond and Mycroft in unisons, “He’s your brother?”

Waving them off, Jim hissed at Q, “Yes, but why did you have to choose her? You knew better.” Q shrugged. “Well, I couldn’t just pick some girl off the streets. You don’t know where they’ve been.” Jim reached a crossed the table and slapped Q on the forehead, “You don’t know where she’s been either!”

Q rubbed his forehead, “I’ve seen her tests. She was clean. I’m not daft.” Jim rolled his eyes, “Yes you are, dear boy. She been everywhere, including everyone’s pockets since the bitch realized her legs could spread. You are a daft boy. Dumb, naïve and stupid.” Q frowned in return, “Why did she call you anyways? Were you trying to blackmail me?” Jim grinned, “I have plenty of blackmail material on you. I was just looking to see if anyone else did.” Bond interrupted, “Wait, you intentionally did a cattle call on your brother? Why?” Jim glared at him, “Same reason I sent out funeral invites on the off-chance I’d die. I don’t like lose ends.” Q snorted, “Well, you aren’t dead.” Jim shrugged, “So it would seem. Though can’t say the same for poor Ms. Adler when I’m done with her.” 

Q turned to Mycroft, “So, is it safe to assume you are after her as well?” Mycroft lifted his eyebrow, “A risky assumption, but, yes. She’s become a certain kind of risk and needs to be handled delicately.” The last part he made sure to make eye contact with Moriarty. Q nodded, “And why is Bond here?” Jim shrugged, “I didn’t want Mycroft to be a third wheel. Besides, I already have a plan to handle Ms. Adler, and it very similar to Mr. Bond’s way of handling things.” Q frowned, “Guns and explosions and death?” The grin was all the answer he got. 

In the small silence that followed, Bond interrupted, “Wait a minute. You intended, correction, you just let your brother sit on an active bomb?” Jim looked at Bond with a look of confusion, “And~?” Bond looked taken aback, “That’s not very brotherly.” Jim raised an eyebrow before turning his full attention to Mycroft, “Myc, I plan to use your brother as bait for Adler. What do you say?” Mycroft tilted his head to think, “Well, I do see him being good bait for one such as Irene Adler. Nothing too dangerous, I suppose I’d be okay with that.” 

Jim nodded, “Who do you take me for? I still need to finish my little chat with Sherlock. He’ll be fine.. until then.” Jim turned back to Bond, “Nothing too dangerous.’ Q isn’t in too much danger here. I don’t see the problem.”

Bond glared at Jim, “You rigged a bomb to his chair. There is quite the possibility of him getting hurt.” Jim sneered, “Possibilities? Boring~. So, Mycey, does that mean you in on bagging Adler?” Mycroft frowned, “For lack of better terms, yes. What is your plan?” Jim giggled as he pulled out his phone, “Like I’d tell you. It’s a surprise~! Besides, this will take a little time to set up.” He stood up and looked at Q, “Time that I don’t have, but you know me.” He pinched Q’s cheek. Q jerked away, “How much time?” Jim kept texting, “As a dear friend once said, I have the rest of my life. Laters!” 

As Jim headed to the door, Q called after him, “JIM! The chairs!” Jim stopped and turned around, “Oh please. Like I would take the risk of one of you getting antsy and blowing up my favorite cake shop. Not likely~!” Q sighed. “Of course. Should have known. Well, come on you two.” Bond and Mycroft followed Q’s lead, gently getting off the chairs. As their weight was lifted, a loud bang exploded from the bottom of all three chairs. On reflex, all three men closed their eyes, expecting the worse. However, as Jim’s cackle echoed in the small bakery, they slowly opened their eyes. Clouds of white powder showering over them. “Good god, what is it?” Jenny answered as she grabbed a broom, “Powdered sugar.” She then started to shout after Jim as he left, “Dammit Jim, I’m a baker, not a janitor!”

Mycroft gently tried to dust some off his suit, “I really do hate that man.” Q snorted, “You don’t know half of it.” Bond nodded slowly, looking at the mess around them before turning to Q, “So, prostitutes…”   
“Oh, shut it Bond.”


End file.
